Attack Eyebrows

      "I got distracted"

She watched him in confusion. He said that he knew her. Well, of course he knew her. She was the Queen of Years. Everyone on Tiaanamat knew her. What was more worrying for her was the fact that he hadn’t answer her question, “I— I asked a question.”

                                    "I know, I just refused to answer it because it was stupid" he                            rebuffed before walking closer to the little girl. As soon as h                            e was mere inches away from her nose, he stopped and si                            ghed deeply. "Marks on one's forehead, market for aliens, I'                            m not on Tiaanamat am I?"

"Where did you get that box?"

                          "I know you, don't I?" Within mere seconds of those words escaping                            his lips, he started to rack his brain in order to remember where thi                            s little girl was known from. "You're not from Adipose 3 are you?" H                            e quickly shook his head and muttered under his breath. "Come o                            n, a little help would be nice!"         

“You.”

       "What are you doing here?           Don't you understand the risks?"

Clara woke up with a start, hearing a smash down stairs. She freezes, the only thing that can be heard his her heavy breathing. Silence. She hears someone starting to come upstairs. She can feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest, she can feel her lungs closing up at she tries to breath evenly. She sees the door handle twisting. It’s like a scene from a horror movie, and we all know what happens next. She holds her breath as the door starts to open. 

Rummaging through the cupboards was something which The Doctor thought would of been quite fun, to witness an aray of different food subtances with his new eyes, his new, old, eyes. His first thought was soon diminished when a glass of pickles fell from the topmost cupboard and shattered onto the floor. With the juice spreading widely on the kitchen floor, and the pungent smell of pickles becoming ever so stronger by the minute, The Doctor quickly rushed from the kitchen and into the hallway, al the time mumbling swear words under his breath. Scanning the empty room, The Doctor very quickly realized his current location and pushed himself to climb the staircase to the control freak, his control freak. With his feet firmly on the ground, he quickly pulled out his screwdriver and flicked it through the air, scanning for any sign of human life. "Gotcha!" He exclaimed before dancing his way towards the first bedroom. Wrapping his left hand around the door knob and pushing the door open, The Doctor raised his eyebrows at the sight of is companion in bed. "Sorry, I smashed your pickles, they died. I tried everything I could but with no avail"

"My apologies, dear Doctor.     I seem to have flustered you.”

       "Dear Doctor? Who          are you?"

"Caught me.              Want to autograph a boob?”

       "You're not.....you're not           you're not making any sense.             Shut up!"